


You Make An Honest Man Want To Lie

by DracoWinchester7237



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Delinquent!Murphy, M/M, Murphamy Week, Murphamy Week 2018, cop!bellamy, cop/delinquent, i dont know how tagging works, im really proud i posted this on time, its turned into my cry for attention, look i mean i know nothing about cops or gangs, someone at least pretend to be proud of me, this might be shit for all i know, well... Gang leader!murphy, your welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 12:22:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16387649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoWinchester7237/pseuds/DracoWinchester7237
Summary: My entry for Murphamy Week Cop/Delinquent.Bellamy is the best cop in Polis but even he is having trouble pinning down the reapers. After months of tracking, he thinks he can finally catch them.





	You Make An Honest Man Want To Lie

**Author's Note:**

> MURPHAMY WEEK 2018 
> 
> the promt: Cop/Delinquent
> 
> well. this was my attempt i hope you like it :3

Bellamy Blake was the best detective in Polis, Arkadia, and Azgeda. He was often tossed around between the three big cities solving whatever cases were left unsolved. He didn't mind moving around so much. There wasn't much for him to go home to these days, not with his sister off to college. 

 

Bellamy liked his job. He liked putting away the bad guys and saving every victim he could. If he was being honest he liked feeling like he was making a difference. He liked being the hero. He thought he liked living alone, out of a suitcase. But maybe on some level, he wanted a family. Someone waiting for him at home. Someone who made him think before jumping head first into dangerous situations. But he didn't have that. And maybe that's what made him so good at his job. Well, good at his job up until a file crossed his desk a good eight months ago. 

 

The Reapers were a gang that came into Polis loud and ruthless and Bellamy had yet to pin them down. He’d come close so many times only to have gotten bad information, or a meeting had been changed at the last minute. It was almost like they were dancing around him like this was some sort of game. 

 

And then he caught them. 

 

And then he let one of them go. 

 

“Detective Blake,” Marcus Kane, his supervisor, said effectively snapping Bellamy's attention back to the matter at hand. “Why don't you start from the beginning and tell me what went down and then I can leave you to heal.” Right, Bellamy was in the hospital. 

 

“We arrived on the scene according to plan…” Bellamy started, his voice was slightly slurred due to the medication they had him on, but he remembered last night vividly. 

  
  


_ It was late, really late, when they pulled into an empty parking lot a block away from where The Reapers were supposed to be meeting. It was dark and cold and a team of Polis’s best officers at his back and every single one of them had a family to get back to. They were wearing all black and their weapons were drawn and they were all looking to him.  _

 

_ “Listen, we go in quiet, get as close as we can and cuff as many of them as possible. They will have guns. They are dangerous. Nobody does anything reckless, we don't need any dead heroes tonight.” and they all nodded and that was that. End of pep-talk.  _

 

_ They went in quiet.  _

 

_ They went out loud.  _

  
  


“They didn't hear us come in, they didn't have any guards posted or anything.” and maybe that's when he should have realized something was off. This wasn't their usual set up and he thought he just got lucky. 

 

“When did you make your presence known?” Kane asked and there was nothing harsh in his voice. Kane wasn't that kind of man. Sometimes Bellamy even wondered why he went into the police business in the first place.

 

“When we got most of them surrounded.” Bellamy continued and he wondered if there was a narcotic in his IV drip because his eyelids were heavy and his arms were heavy and everything was heavy. 

 

“Who started the shooting?” 

  
  


_ They split up, spreading out through the mostly empty shelves that went from floor to ceiling. They stayed low and they surrounded the group of maybe a dozen Reapers.  _

 

_ They were supposed to wait for his signal. They were supposed to stay hidden and silent until Bellamy whistled. But Collins was young, fresh out of the Academy, and as much as Bellamy liked the kid he didn't want him on this team because of that.  _

 

_ “Police, hands up!” And that's when the shooting started.  _

 

_ And it didn't stop.  _

 

_ And the worst part was Bellamy didn't know who shot first.  _

 

_ The Reapers split and Bellamy knew there was another team covering the exits and he knew they had heard the gunfire and he knew they should be able to handle it. And he also knew Collins was down, and Monroe and Green were leaning over him. They had already called for an ambulance. He couldn't see Jordan.  _

 

_ “Go!” Miller shouted at him. “Get the son of a bitch that shot Collins” Miller was his partner. Miller understood what Bellamy wanted. So he ran.  _

  
  


“And the team outside, they got control of the situation, correct?” Kane wasn't trying to accuse Bellamy of anything, he knew that. But still the way he said it hurt because, on the list of failures in Bellamy's career, last night would forever be on the top.

 

“Yes.” 

 

“So why did you run, did you see another one? Who were you chasing?” and here is where Bellamy had to close his eyes. Because Kane could always tell when he was lying. 

  
  


_ Outside, The Reapers were lined up in cuffs, most of them bleeding, probably from gunshot wounds and Bellamy was more than a little happy to see it. He was about to go inside, about to check up on Collins and the rest of his team but before he could he caught the sight of something moving out of the corner of his eye.  _

 

_ Someone moving.  _

 

_ Someone with a gun. _

 

_ Someone running away. _

 

_ His first reaction was to run. And he did. And he ignored the calls of the officers behind him. Because Bellamy Blake was bad at taking orders. And he was bad about thinking before he acted. And neither of those things were particularly good qualities to have for a cop but it hadn't stopped him before and so he ran.  _

 

_ And the person he was chasing ran. And Bellamy knew he was right when he saw the gun.  _

 

_ He gave chase until the other man turned into an alleyway and stopped with his back to Bellamy. Maybe he should have called for backup then.  _

 

_ “Police. Drop your weapon.” He called pointing his gun at the other man’s back.  _

  
  


“I thought I saw one of them get away,” Bellamy said,  breathing hard through his nose. 

 

“And did you catch up to him?” and Bellamy really wished they could be done with the debriefing already. 

  
  


_ “I said, drop your weapon,” Bellamy repeated stepping closer to the man. And he really really should have called for backup.  _

 

_ “Or what? You going to shoot me, Bell?” Bellamy felt every ounce of blood in his body turn cold. The hands gripped white-knuckle tight around his gun shook. The nickname felt like it shook the entire earth around him. There were only two people left in the world that called him Bell. The man started to turn around to face him. The man whose name was John Murphy. _

 

_ Bellamy didn't know how long he stood there, shaking gun between them before he was able to fully comprehend what was happening. And what this meant.  _

 

_ “Give me one good reason why I shouldn't.” and Bellamy thought he actually wanted a reason. More than anything he wanted John to tell him something, anything that would explain this all away.  _

  
  


“No,” Bellamy answered flatly. “I didn’t catch him.” 

  
  


_ “You know why,” Murphy whispered and it was so quiet Bellamy wasn't even sure he heard it and there were sirens in the distance and Bellamy was pointing a gun at John Murphy. And John was saying the thing he used to say to him instead of ‘I love you’ and Bellamy was pointing a gun at him. Bellamy was pointing a gun at him.  _

 

_ “You don't get to do that.” Bellamy hated the way his voice shook. And he hated the way his hands shook and he hated the way after so many years Murphy could come back and make his entire world shake. “You don't get to say that to me.” the sirens were getting louder and for the first time in years, he had no idea what to do.  _

 

_ “Bellamy,” Murphy started, taking a step forward. But he stopped when Bellamy cocked his gun. “This isn't what you think it is. Please Bell,” Murphy chewed on his lip. “Don't you trust me?” Murphy asked, and for the first time in this dark alley, Bellamy could start to see the old Murphy.  _

 

_ “You left me.” and then all Bellamy could see was the old Murphy. The boy who hid behind a cocky mask and sarcastic jokes. The boy who bit his lip when he was scared the boy who kept everyone at an arm's length, everyone except Bellamy. The boy who would scream at night because his dreams had more to do with the past than the future. The boy who asked Bellamy not to ever leave him just weeks before walking away with tears streaming down his face. _

 

_ And here's the thing about John Murphy. He's not the kind of person you fall in love with slowly in a montage of dark movie theaters and tv marathons and meeting the family. His was the kind of love that hits you full force and sends you stumbling into a closet full of skeletons. There was nothing comfortable about loving John Murphy. But once you do, that's it. _

 

_ John Murphy was ingrained in Bellamy.  _

 

_ And Bellamy was pointing a gun at him.  _

 

_ “You left me,” Bellamy repeated and he knew he must have tears in his eyes but he didn't care anymore. He dropped his arms, the gun falling to his side. He felt completely and utterly defeated.  _

 

_ “Bellamy,”  Murphy said and in just the way John said his name, it sounded so raw and apologetic and it was too much for him.  _

 

_ “Just tell me what this is. Tell me what you're doing here with that gun. With them?” tell me why, Bellamy thought. Tell me why.  _

 

_ “I, I can't say. Not yet. I just. I promise I'll explain everything one day I just, can’t. Yet.” and damn it all to hell but Bellamy actually trusted him. Because here's the thing about John Murphy. Once you loved him you never stopped. Not ever. No matter what. And so even when Murphy was pointing his gun at him. Even when he knew what Murphy was about to do. Even when this entire situation went against everything he’d been taught to do. Bellamy stood there and locked eyes with Murphy.  _

  
  


“Then how did you get shot?” Kane asked him. 

  
  


_ He heard the shot long before he felt the pain of it shooting through his leg. And he fell. And Murphy jumped forward, catching him and laying him down gently.  _

  
  


“He caught me,”

 

“Did you see his face, could you describe him?” Kane asked.

 

“No, I never saw him.”

 

“That about wraps it up I think mister Blake. The other officers that were hurt are being well cared for. Now, get some rest. We need your help catching the rest of these guys when you're cleared for work.” and just like that Kane was gone. And Bellamy was left staring at the white ceiling wondering if he’s just made the worst mistake of his life. 

  
  


_ “I'm sorry,” Murphy was saying above him. Bellamy wanted to tell him it was okay. “This was the only way. Please, Bellamy.” and Bellamy didn't even know what Murphy was asking him for anymore. But he wanted to say yes, he wanted to say he could do anything for Murphy. “Please   forgive me.” He almost said yes.  _

 

_ “Why did you leave?” Bellamy asked instead, voice ragged and whimpering and Murphy was looking down at him with sad eyes and Bellamy was bleeding and here he was wondering, like he had been for years, if he had done something wrong.  _

 

_ “You know why,” Murphy whispered, and it didn't make sense, Bellamy wanted a real answer. Something tangible that he could hold onto. Something true. Not another lie. But then Murphy leaned forward and brushed his lips against Bellamy’s. It was only for a second, and Bellamy could taste blood and salt on Murphy's lips, and it was perfect.  _

 

_ And then Murphy was gone. And Bellamy could hear the sirens getting closer, and it was so much colder than he remembered it being.  _

**Author's Note:**

> oh also im not sure if i want to continue this or not so let me know if you want me to write a part two or something. thanks!!! <3<3<3 (<#)


End file.
